Hear but don't listen
by TealEyedBeing
Summary: Ichigo used to not listen to his Hollow, but this time he did and... what? Did this mean that something was changed between them? And now, where were they headed? Warnings/Disclaimer inside.
1. Hear but don't listen

_**Warnings/Disclaimer: **__Don't own Bleach, Tite Kubo does. Warnings include mild OOCness, and some mild hurt/comfort. It's really just some thoughtful confused Ichigo talking with a gentle unnamed Shiro. Just something light to read because i've been missing Ichigo and Shiro :)_

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><p><strong>~x~<strong>

**Hear but don't listen **

**~x~**

_**Oi, King. I know ya can hear me. But just actually listen for once, ne?**_

The unexpectedly soft tone was what really startled Ichigo enough out of his daze, and the orange head knew his inner Hollow felt it when the substitute shinigami's attention genuinely drifted inwards.

_**Yer sad.**_

The Hollow's voice was saturated with gratitude at Ichigo's inwardly listening ear, but the two little obvious words themselves confused Ichigo more than the genuine gratitude ever would. Well yeah he was sad, he would've thought that was obvious by the monsoon currently pouring down in his inner world. What was the point of reporting the obvious again?

_**Yer sad… but I dunno why… I mean, yer banned from Soul Society while they take forever to discuss what we already know is gonna happen, but why's that gotta make ya sad? I don't get it, King.**_

Ichigo frowned into the crook of his elbow, replaying the sentences in his head in a way that made more sense since the Hollow himself was uncertain. He was sad because he was banned from Soul Society and because they were deliberating the continued usefulness of his existence, but if he already knew that it was just for paperwork reasons and he would remain alive, why was he sad again? Maybe it was because if it was actually necessary to be pushed into talking about and putting him down on paper, _somebody_ wanted him executed. Maybe that creepy clown-faced twelfth division captain wanted to dissect him or something. The thought wasn't reassuring.

_**Why are ya so sad still, King? I'm still 'ere, which means all the other Hollows are still there, and more are gonna be made everyday, so ya'll still fight and protect like ya always do. Wars are settled faster then they're started wit'you around, so that's not really a problem. Yer happier when there's a war anyways. It makes ya feel useful.**_

If Ichigo wasn't so confused with himself, he'd bristle up defensively at the implication that he enjoyed the damage and death wars caused, but… it was true. He did like feeling useful. If he could protect, it gave him purpose. Why was his Hollow talking to him like this anyways? So gentle for someone of his sadistic character; without sneering jabs meant to hurt and offend.

_**And even if ya ever do get bored with mundane Hollow-huntin', ya still got me and the ole'man, though he's pretty young in bankai too yanno. Ya can come spar with us anytime ya wanna stretch yer muscles a little bit past the max again. Like the good times, yeah? Ya got such a life, King. Why're ya sad?**_

The knot that had tied itself in Ichigo's chest ever since a week ago of Soul Society's announcement of deliberation quite suddenly unknotted, and Ichigo could only be more confused. What about his Hollow's statement just then had relaxed him? He didn't understand and it didn't make sense. This was so out of character…

_**Oi, King. It stopped raining. Does that mean yer not sad anymore?**_

Ichigo really didn't know enough to answer, and he never answered before anyways. But at least this time he heard and actually listened, and he felt better.

**~x~**

Just like Ichigo and his inner Hollow had expected, Soul Society officially declared Ichigo beneficial to the balance of the worlds and allowed him to remain living as he currently was- an ally to Soul Society. There wasn't a huge burst of relief (though there was a little one) and Ichigo didn't grin any wider than he normally would, and even in the commotion of celebration at his official status, Ichigo spared a thought towards his inner Hollow before getting swept up in the joyous mass of his friends- who had also been accepted as beneficiaries.

It was about another month later that the inner Hollow spoke again and Ichigo heard and listened, reminded of his own promise to himself that he would answer the Hollow now.

_**Oi, King?**_

_Yeah?_

There was a brief flare of surprise from the Hollow, as if he still hadn't expected Ichigo to answer- the orange head didn't blame him.

_**Ya answered…**_

_Yeah, I did. What did you wanna ask?_

There was an empty pause in the mental void that the two being shared, but then Ichigo felt a distinct bubble of contentedness drift across their unlikely connection.

_**Nothing.**_

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><p><em>Yeah… I dunno the point of this, but I may or may not add onto it later on, but I thought it was a soft and gentile little thing that only took me about a half hour to write. I'm supposed to be working on an essay, and I will after I've posted this, but yeah… :) enjoy it?<em>


	2. You listened

_After rereading the first chapter and the reviews, I decided to continue this with another soft/gentle interaction between everyone's favorite King and Horse. Thanks to MaeKat, Selena Estella, Anitoon3, phirephox666, and the first anonymous reviewer without a name ;) Special dedication to phirephox666 for sharing the exact same mental image as my own from the first chapter :D_

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><p><strong>~x~<strong>

**Hear but don't listen…**

_**You listened.**_

**~x~**

"You've been talking less."

The Hollow turned with surprise written across a pale face. The carbon copy turned completely to mirror the colored original. "Ya listened once, I was content. Never 'spected ya to pay a visit."

Ichigo looked aside. "I'm sorry." It was a universal apology. "I should've listened long before now."

The Hollow shrugged in a blasé manner. "Then was then, yer here now, that's that."

Ichigo frowned as his apology was brushed aside as unnecessary when it actually was severely lacking in the face of all the orange head had done over the years. "No." He restated, wrapping tan fingers around a familiar but colorless wrist. "I'm sorry."

The albino stared down at the sensation of their skin touching- a sensation he hadn't felt since their battle for dominance. But this touch was gentle and warm- alien to the Hollow so he wiggled free with an uncertain mumbled reply. "Ya said so already."

"I mean it." Ichigo emphasized, disappointed when his copy retreated from contact. He sought to keep eye contact but failed when the Hollow deliberately turned away. "Do you not accept it?"

The white being pulled at the fraying strings on one sleeve, mumbling in an uncharacteristic display of reluctance. "Yer tryin' too hard."

"Am I not supposed to?"

The Hollow shook his head in negative agreement, keeping his eyes averted still despite Ichigo's persistent efforts to connect.

"Why am I not supposed to?" The question was asked in a bewildered tone, seeking an answer to this new enigma when it was previously thought that the albino would be happy with his show of attention, like he had last time. "Tell me, Shiro."

The question was completely ignored when the Hollow jolted in shock and finally met Ichigo's eyes with a weirdly mixed expression of emotions. "Shiro? Ya gave me a name? …Shiro?"

Distracted himself, Ichigo nodded hesitantly. "Yeah, since it was weird calling you Hollow since you're obviously different from the rest. So yeah, Shiro. That okay?"

Newly named, Shiro looked down at his hand as if staring at the color instead of his hands. Ichigo shifted his weight nervously, but it seemed to be the catalyst to unfreezing his Hollow who nodded in acceptance of the name with a cautious upward twist of the lips.

The close-lipped smile looked odd on a face that was Ichigo's own, but had previously all worn cruel grins of sadistic enjoyment. Ichigo had no idea at all when that grin had been lost, to be replaced by a reluctant and withdrawn inner Hollow whose smile might as well proved Shiro to be an entirely different entity than the original. Maybe he was.

Leaving that thought to run itself in circles like a hamster in its wheel, Ichigo leaned forward and wrapped fingers around a pale wrist again, tugging lightly. "You didn't tell me why I'm not supposed to try so hard."

Again, Shiro stared down at the contact but instead followed the tug to take a small step closer and didn't pull away again. "Ya weren' supposed to cuz I never expected ya to. Though, now, I shoulda realized that it was a moot point, cuz ya never meet expectations anyways, King. Ya always either completely fly by them or do somethin' completely different." The albino's voice sounded amused, and the close-lipped smile broadened into a toothy grin that was still far from its predecessors but familiar enough to make Ichigo grin as well.

"Yeah, guess I do. You got a problem with that?"

Shiro's laugh was something he'd heard multiple times before, but this was the first time he thought it sounded like a bell tolling for a new day.

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><p><em>And this just <em>_**felt**__ like a place to stop, but it also totally leaves it open to continue, so looks like I got myself a little drabblish vague story going on here, ne? :) I hope you guys enjoy it! Thanks again for the reviews, and I hope to see more! :D_


	3. Have you and me become we?

_I reread the first two chapters, and felt inclined to write a third :3 here you go guys. Warning: shonen-ai (BL) fluff in this chapter, as they work towards a relationship_

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><p><strong>~x~<strong>

**Hear but don't listen**

_**You listened…**_

**Have you and me become **_**we?**_

**~x~**

Shiro was cleaning his reverse Zangetsu, slowly rubbing its black cloth along the blade with a distant, yet soft expression. The Hollow was probably imagining something off the wall, but Ichigo was entranced by the expression.

He had taken to visiting Shiro as often as he could, finding his Hollow's new docile nature a soothing balm to everything outside their inner world. He'd talked with Zangetsu a lot too, and the zanpakatou spirit radiated pleasure as Ichigo only continued to deepen his relationship with the factions of his soul.

Curious, Ichigo leaned close and slid his palm along a pale, identical jaw to cup Shiro's cheek. "What're you thinking about?" He murmured quietly. Gold-on-black eyes slid in his direction, and Shiro deliberately tilted his head so that he leaned into Ichigo's gentle touch.

"Just thinkin' bout how we became a we."

Ichigo blinked and dropped his hand to instead rest it on the albino's knee, squeezing. "We became a we?"

Shiro's eyes drifted away again. "Haven' we?"

Ichigo's hands drifted towards the reverse Zangetsu, sliding it from Shiro's lap and pulling the Hollow's legs towards him, so that each limb rested on either side of his hips and they faced each other, linked at the knees. He was pleased when Shiro let him do as such.

"Yeah," He whispered. "We have."

Shiro flashed teeth, content with the answer. His own pale hand reached out and brushed through tangled orange spikes. King was as untamable as his hair. Shiro paused at the thought of tame.

Ichigo realized Shiro's mind was straying again into metaphor, capturing the albino's lifted hand and pressing his thumb to a palm that bore the same lines as his. "Shiro, what're you thinking about?"

"…'member when I called ya th'King, Ichigo? And how I'm yer Horse?"

"…Yeah, I remember. What is it?"

"Are ya still holdin' m'reins, King?" Shiro stared down at their linked hands, almost as if he could see leather straps and taste a metal bit in the connection of touch.

Ichigo tucked his thumb along the heel of Shiro's hand, rubbing in sweeping strokes. "Yeah, I'm still holding them. But only so that you don't run away from me."

The Hollow tilted his head with another flash of teeth, this grin much broader with its own brand of amusement. "Really now… ya swear?"

"I swear, yeah. So don't bite me, y'hear?"

"Sure… Ichigo." Black nailed fingers trailed invisible patterns on the tan smooth skin on the back of Ichigo's hand. "I still got metal between m'teeth?"

Ichigo grinned, amused by the continuation of their metaphor. "Does it hurt?"

Shiro hummed idly, turning over Ichigo's hand to trace the lines on the palm like Ichigo had noticed earlier. "No, just got a bad taste is all."

Ichigo gently pulled his hand free and instead brushed his fingertips across pale lips, his thumb dipping inwards briefly to be met with a blue tongue. "There. That better?"

"Much."

Ichigo watched with fascination, his stomach tightening, as Shiro licked at his thumb again, biting his nail before letting go. Ichigo wondered if he would taste metal on Shiro's tongue if he connected their mouths, but didn't want to push their developing relationship. But he wanted to, and perhaps that was already enough.

Shiro's eyes were heavy lidded and lazy as his hand held Ichigo's wrist, keeping the teen's hand to his mouth. He kissed the palm, inhaling the human's scent greedily, before deciding he wanted another taste. He licked upwards, curling his tongue around Ichigo's index finger and swearing he could taste the very fingerprint on the pad.

Ichigo felt hot, both in the face and lower body. Such a simple thing could arouse him so much, but the need wasn't pressing. He certainly appreciated the action, but the need to further the pleasure carnally wasn't there. He was happy that it wasn't.

Ichigo scooted closer, bending his knees under Shiro's, which slid the Hollow's thighs further down along his own so that now they were nearly pressing groins, but skillfully not.

Shiro's attention dropped from Ichigo's finger, instead drifting towards Ichigo's mouth, wondering. Guess that an intimate taste wouldn't be so unwelcome, Ichigo mused, leaning forward invitingly. He wouldn't be the one to press first.

The Hollow didn't wait any further, pushing against Ichigo's mouth with his tongue already slipping forward, eager to taste. Ichigo's wet muscle met him, just as eager. The initial touch was odd for them both, unsure of the mechanics, as they twisted around one another and categorized the taste. Ichigo tasted like the bits of freedom Shiro had stolen with Ichigo's body, and Ichigo mourned his previous attitude when he did indeed taste metal on Shiro's tongue.

They still had so much to work through between them, but perhaps something as simple as taste, could provide a doorway that could help.


	4. Look at us now

_So with new ffnet policies, I've moved all my M-rated fics to my livejournal, which as to link you can find on my profile page. All stories on this account in the future shall remain under T. So if you still want to read my smutty stories, please follow me on my livejournal :) thank you_

_So in sync with that, this story has been bumped up to a rating T for suggestive material during this chapter, _but_ there is no, and will not be, sex in this story. It is of course heavily implied, but the best I can now post here is a lime (petting/kissing). Still read and enjoy please? :) I needed to write something and post it after an absence._

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><p><strong>~x~<strong>

**Hear but don't listen**

_**You listened…**_

**Have you and me become we?**

_**Look at us now**_

**~x~**

The freedom was glorious. It still tasted best coming from Ichigo's mouth of course, but sitting on Ichigo's physically tangible bed and staring out the window he had seen a million times but _this_ time with his own eyes, was still utterly sweet tasting. Shiro was quite content to just _be_ here now.

Ichigo sat at his desk, distractedly doing his homework but majorly failing at his attempts because his ochre eyes kept being drawn back to Shiro on his bed. It was a tempting visage, only prompted on by his dreams. But Ichigo was content to watch because Shiro was content to watch, and that was really okay. Contentedness. Something he hadn't really felt in a long time since this relationship with his inner Hollow had really progressed into its current state.

Their simplicity was something he had quickly learned to crave after all the complicated mess of things of even being a shinigami. It was an odd thing to think about really; that the only reason he had this beautiful bout of simplicity was _because_ he'd been immersed in complications. Shiro giving attention and receiving Ichigo's attention just because they wanted to and because they _could_ without any judgments or barriers to stop them was just so freeing- such a relief.

Ichigo was rambling on in his mind _again_, but that was somehow now a normal thing when he thought about Shiro and him. It was simple, and that was why all these thoughts could now make themselves known because complications weren't there to overshout them. And wasn't that just beautiful? Shiro certainly was. Did that make him a narcissist? Probably.

Shiro's lips curled upwards at one corner. Beautiful narcissist he was.

"Yer thoughts are confusin' me, Ichigo."

"Sorry." He wasn't really, not when Shiro smiled (kind of) like that. Ah- there, now he was really smiling.

The pale Hollow turned from the window and slid down the wall lazily to lay on his side in the bed, briefly closing his eyes. "S'nice."

"Mmhmm…" Ichigo was agreeing before he even knew what he was agreeing to, eyes so fixated on Shiro's relaxed, beautiful body. "Wait, my thoughts or the day?"

"Hmm…" Shiro hummed lazily, opening one eye to gaze at Ichigo with affection in its gold depths. "Jus' you."

Ichigo shamelessly abandoned his desk and crawled into the bed alongside his soul's partner (a legitimate claim to soul mates really). He slid one arm around Shiro's ribs and flattened his fingers to the middle of the Hollow's back, pulling himself closer to his cool warmth.

Shiro shifted his weight onto his shoulder and hip, sliding one arm under Ichigo's head so his bicep could pillow the orange head of hair as the other rested on Ichigo's side so his fingers could burrow into that very hair. He pulled in soft, deep strokes; petting and enjoying the texture of simple affection.

Ichigo sighed under the gentle sensation, loving every millisecond of it. "I love you."

Shiro hummed and brushed his lips over Ichigo's mouth, could nearly taste the freedom he actually now had (in an entirely different way than he had originally always thought). "We're th' same soul. Of course ya love me. But sokay, I love ya too."

Ichigo laughed a lazy hum, actually it just being exhaled puffs of air in mimicry of laughter as his mind prompted that a nap sounded glorious right now. "That so?"

"Course it is."

Shiro's touch was gentle, soft and sweet. His skin was rough, worn from handling their shared zanpakatou- strangely unlike Ichigo's hands whose were miraculously still somehow soft. But Ichigo's touches tended to act rough, instead of being rough. He couldn't help it. Once he had something, he never wanted to let it go. Shiro's skin was rough, but his touch was soft because he knew that he was never going to be let go of. It was a compliment to each other. Favorable, if it made any sense to anyone else. It made sense to them, that's what mattered.

They shared air for a while, exchanging tastes of tongues for even longer, stroking and caressing in a lazy affectionate way of wasting the day away but gloriously spending the time happily. They'd already progressed that final boundary days ago, inside Ichigo's mind because a possessive streak had risen within Ichigo and he hadn't wanted anyone else to see his partner in the throes of passion but _him._ No one ever would.

Unlike before, Shiro found himself loving the possessiveness- the fact of being claimed by another, his King and Ichigo. His real true aibou. It satisfied everything inside of him that had wanted Ichigo before, because he now had him in this way. He mattered to Ichigo. He mattered _a lot._ He didn't need to take Ichigo's body, he was given it. In an entirely better way.

Then it had been tentative, like blowing air onto embers in the hopes that the tinder would catch to build a fire. And just like a fire, when the embers caught flame, it burned hot and fast. It was rougher than it should have been for a first time for either of them, they still bore the bruises of too tight hands but that was alright. Just like how it all started, it had come naturally.

Now it was sweet and slow the whole time. Before they had taken and given whole heartedly, without reserve, so now there was time to appreciate what each other now had. Now they could explore and experience the finesse of one another's touch, and it was a slow burn of patient lust. Each touch was another slow burning log to the fire that would last and warm them through the night.

But enough with the poetry yeah?

Shiro was sleeping on Ichigo's bare bicep now, his breath deep and fluttery on the skin of his neck where his pulse still occasionally jumped by the exhilaration of bare skin pressed all together. The sheet was cool against his shoulder, the heavier blanket having been kicked off the end of the bed to ward off their own physical heat soaked in. Dinner would be served downstairs soon, and the setting sun was a bit too bright for his eyelids, but Ichigo didn't mind.

Their imperfection was his perfection.

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><p><em>Enjoyed?<em>


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